Absolution
by LovelyMagickUnicorn
Summary: Faberry Week Day 6: Assassin's. Modern Day Assassin's Creed verse. An initiate performs their last tasks before being formally joining the Creed.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I'm going to say this right here and now; I Hate how this turned out. Maybe it's the fact that it's my first time writing an action sequence. Maybe it's trying to write present day Assassin's Creed verse fic, which doesn't really work well. Or maybe I'm just pissed off because I know that someone else is going to write an Assassin's Creed verse fic, hopefully one that's better thought out than mine.

That said, despite the fact that what follows feels like a prologue and was written with to have such an intention, I don't like it and may not continue it.

* * *

Atop the rooftops she waits. In the distance she can see the estate. The sun has set; the city dark. Her body shakes and not from the cold. It's almost time. She takes a calming breath and then breaks into a sprint. As she reaches the edge she leaps, gracefully rolling when she lands onto the next rooftop and quickly speeding up once more.

There are still some people on the streets below, but she doesn't worry about them. If they were to spot her they'd simply believe she was a reckless child attempting parkour. If they only knew what she truly is.

But she can't dwell on that because time is of the essence. She'd studied her target's routine diligently, and now would be her best shot. At the end of every work week (just as this day was) he'd lounge in his study, sipping on his tea as he read a book. None would disturb him. It would be the perfect opportunity, but with his guards patrolling she'd only have a small window of time pull this off.

The security of his estate had been improved recently. Perhaps he knew. Given what he had done, he should have expected that this would happen sooner or later. It won't be easy, but she'll get it done. She has to.

A large gap approaches. She jumps but can't reach. She releases her hookblade, the curved end just barely latching itself onto the edge of the building. She pulls herself up and quickly starts to run once more. Inside, she mentally chastises herself for losing focus. She can't fail… not when she's so close.

She comes to a halt just outside the estate. The light in the study is on, and there are guards posted on the ground outside its only window. It's the easiest way in, and with little to no knowledge of interior layout it's also the safest route. But that doesn't make it simple. She takes a moment to observe the surroundings.

The guards are patrolling the routes that she's come to know so well. They idly chat with one another and occasionally slack off. Something isn't right. She backtracks. It'll waste some time, but she has to be sure about everything. There's a fire escape nearby, it'll do. She takes a step towards it and hears the sound of movement, but not her own.

She swiftly turns around, releasing her hidden blade in preparation for a killing strike. A large hand around her forearm halts her movement. Towering above her is a huge man, twice her size. He has a pistol with a silencer holstered at his side, whether or not he actually needs it is yet to be seen. He laughs bitterly. She takes a deep calm breath. So this is what it's like to be in a real combat situation.

Now it's time to put all that training to work.

With a sweeping kick to the leg she knocks him off balance. His grip on her arm falters but he doesn't fall down. She retracts her hidden blade and with her other hand quickly reaches for the short blade at her side, giving a good slash to his chest. Her attack rips through his shirt, but beneath it appears to be some sort of protective vest. He smirks confidently.

He lunges for her. She ducks under his arms and swerves to the right, slashing her blade across his leg. He groans, but quickly turns to her and throws a massive punch. If his wound is affecting him, she can't tell. She flips backwards, both dodging his attack and providing some much needed distance. But he's quicker than he looks. In a flash he's in front of her, his massive arms wrapping around her.

He squeezes and lifts her up. She screams in anguish. Her arms are trapped at her sides and she feels likes she's about to be snapped in half. His sadistic laugh echoes in her ears. She manages to bend her arm and with all the force she can manage stabs him in the belly. He yells in pain. She's dropped to the floor. But she's weak and can barely move.

She remembers the gun holstered at the man's side. As nimbly as she can, she gets to her feet and goes for the weapon as she evades his angered swings. She's able to retrieve it and get herself a manageable distance away. He sees the gun, and she thinks she has him. But instead of backing down, runs for her. She shoots. The bullet hits, but he keeps coming. She shoots again, this time aiming for the head.

He falls. Her body shakes. It's one thing to train, to prepare one's mind and body for the kill. But it's nothing compared to actually murdering someone. But regardless of how she feels, her job isn't over. She still has to take care of her target. But first she wants to find out more about whoever it was that attacked her.

She checks his body but he doesn't have anything that can identify who he is or who he works for. She hadn't expected that he would, but as she's been told, sometimes the enemy gets sloppy. She retrieves some ammo from his pockets. While she prefers blades to firearms there's never any harm in having an extra weapon so long as it doesn't slow her down.

With that out of the way, she returns to observing the guard's patrolling routes. Valuable time has been wasted and she'll have to move quick if she'll be able to pull this off. Her descent is swift. There are two cameras overlooking the portion of wall that she's planning to leap over. "Hack the cameras now," she says into her ear piece.

"Affirmative, streaming a repeating loop now. Better hurry, no telling when they'll figure it out."

Her actions are light fast as she scales the wall. The other side is clear for now but she knows that there will be someone in the vicinity within minutes. She waits and before long a guard makes his way through. She keeps low and so he doesn't spot her hidden among the shrubs. Once his head is turned, she strikes.

With ninja-like silence, she darts towards him before throwing a few precision hits to his pressure points. He's out cold before he can take note of her presence. Now, if things go accordingly, she'll have a few minutes until the next patrol. Using both her agility and the skills at her disposal, she starts to scale the side of the building.

Her actions are precise and every so often she has to still herself. There are tons of windows and several guards scouring the inside of the estate. One false move is it takes to ruin her entire mission. Luckily the ornate carvings along the exterior make for excellent footholds. Thus far they've been able to help her regain lost time. Up close she notices that the guards don't seem to take their jobs every seriously. It confirms her suspicions. They don't know anything about the man that they work for, or the things that he does.

These men are not but average citizens. She reports this through her com. Her superiors have had similar thoughts. They tell to keep a look out for anything more substantial. If it's true, then they need to find out why. She has a feeling that she doesn't want to find out. She tries not to think about it though. There's still the issue at hand and she won't this opportunity slip her by.

She's easily able to make it the rest of the way up without being noticed, but when she makes it to the balcony outside of the study, she surprisingly finds the doors wide open. She draws her weapon and cautiously steps inside. The lights have since been shut off. It's probably a trap and she knows that, but she can't stop now.

A step into the room she hears a voice. "I was wondering when you'd get here." Her eyes jump its source, an arm chair a few feet in front of her. "I knew that one of you would come after me sooner or later," he admits morosely. She takes cautious steps towards him. She's waited for this moment for so long; there's no way she'll let it slip through her fingers now.

Her feet stop once she's behind his chair. She could kill him now, but she wants to see his face. It's selfish, she knows that, but it'll give her some peace. Or at least she hopes it will. "I'll make this quick," she tells him. She strides around the chair, keeping her weapon at his throat. Her eyes meet his, and she sees it; just the slightest hint of recognition. It's enough.

She's about to release her blade when she hears it. "Dad!" someone calls from outside. "Why are the lights off? Is something wrong in there?" The clicking sound of the door unlocking echoes off the walls.

"Sweetheart, everything's fine!" he yells, and the sound stops. He speaks again, quieter this time. "Please," he pleads. "Please leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this." Anger flows through her veins at his request, but she won't let lower herself to his level. It's not her way, and she won't allow her need for vengeance to cloud her judgment.

"Dad, are you sure everything's all right?" the voice outside continues. "You don't sound okay." He mouths out his request again. "Dad?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go downstairs and get ready for dinner."

"Don't worry, she'll be safe." It's better than he deserves, but that doesn't matter. She releases her blade, sinking it into his throat. She shuts his eyes, letting out a muttered, "Peace be with you." She closes her eyes in silent prayer. And when she opens them she sees that the girl, the daughter, did not do as she was told.

"Who are you?" she asks, and foolishly she allows their eyes to lock. The girl looks down briefly, notices the blood. "What have you done to my dad?!" Tears shimmer in her eyes. They bring back memories. "Answer me!" she reaches for an antique blade hanging above the fireplace. An amateur mistake; clearly she isn't one of them. It's in that short time that she's able to make her escape, leaving a girl crying over her father's death.

Her mission is a success even with a small foul up, but she doesn't feel the relief that she had hoped for. But she can't expect to feel good about herself, not when she's just taken a girl's father away from her, something that she herself had experienced not too long ago. She tries not to dwell on it. This is her life now, and she'll have to get used to it.

She stops when she reaches an abandoned warehouse. Clichéd perhaps, but it works. The entrance to their underground bunker is well hidden and can only be opened by those that wield the weapon of her brothers and sisters. She opens the hatch and steps inside, closing the entrance behind her. It's dark at first but soon lights flicker on. She's soon greeted by one of her brothers.

"It's done?" he asks.

"Yes, but…" she falters. "His daughter saw me."

"I see. Regardless, you've done well. Are you ready for your initiation?"

"Yes."

"Then follow me." He leads her down to the to the initiation chamber, the only place in the entire bunker where she's never been before. Inside she finds senior members of her order. Some of them aren't much older than she is. Seeing them is a silent reminder of how many of them have lost their lives in this seemingly endless war.

"Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine," the words are spoken as she enters. She takes her place in the center as her brethren encircle her. "These are the words of our ancestors, through them we see the wisdom of our Creed. Where other men blindly follow truth, remember…"

"Nothing is true."

"Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember…"

"Everything is permitted."

"We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins."

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted," her brethren chant.

"Welcome Rachel, you are now an Assassin."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Well first of all, I've change the name of this fic. Second, I'm trying out a least a second part. Third, this part is shorter than the first. Fourth, I going say that the length (or lack thereof) is partly due to the shifts that my boss has been assigning me to this week. (Tomorrow I actually have like a ten hour shift) Fifth, I'm still working out all the details of this fic. I've got far too many things that I'm trying to work on. And finally sixth, the next thing I'm trying to update is "I Love Being In You" since I really need to make up for neglecting it for about a year. And that's that.

* * *

She knows what's happened. She had seen it. Maybe not 'it' it, but she had seen it. Regardless, she can't quite process it all. There's a police officer in front of her. He's asking her questions, or at least she thinks that's what he's doing. That's what they do in the movies anyway, so that's all she can assume. She can't hear his words though. But maybe he's trying to comfort her.

Yeah right. She knows that there's nothing that anyone can say that will make this all better. There's nothing that can soothe the ache in her heart. She notices that the police officer isn't looking at her anymore. It looks like one of the other police officers are calling him. She still can't hear what anyone is saying.

He turns to her and says something before getting up and leaving. She's alone now, kind of. The room is full of people, but she is alone in a way. But in another way, she's not. Her thoughts are racing, going through everything that had happened earlier. It still makes no sense.

She had just noticed that they light was out. Her father always had the light on when he was in his study. It was odd, peculiar. Something was wrong. She should have known. She didn't have to ask. She shouldn't have asked. She should have just called the cops regardless of how silly it would have seemed at the time.

If she had then maybe… but there's nothing she can do now. He's gone and so is she. Her features were hidden by a hood, but even then there was no way of not noticing those eyes. They were dark brown; a deep, chocolate brown. They were beautiful and enticing. Too bad they belonged to a killer.

A killer.

It's weird to think about it. A killer had been in her house. She had come in and killed her father and somehow had been able to escape without being notice by a single security camera or by any of their guards. The only person who had seen this mysterious woman was… her. How was that even possible? Was it even possible? Maybe she was losing her mind.

But she doesn't really believe that, kind of wished that she did though. If she were insane then she wouldn't have to face the truth. The truth that she, Lucy Quinn Fabray, was now fatherless. And that her father had been murdered by some hooded psychopath. It surely would be easier say that she was crazy, but her father had taught her better than that.

He taught her to be strong. He taught her to never give up. He taught her about sacrifice. He taught her everything that she knows. And if there's something that she knows it's that she can't let this go unanswered. She can't let this 'person' (she can't even see her as one) get away with killing her father.

She suddenly feels arms around her. Quinn looks up to see her mother pulling her out of her seat and into her arms. She hugs her mom back as tightly as she can. "Don't cry mom," she whispers. "Don't cry." She doesn't know how, but Quinn knows that she has to set things right. But she has no idea where to start.

Quinn doesn't sleep that night. She can't. Too many thoughts are running through her mind. She can't make them stop. She's angry and sad and frustrated and lots of other things. It's overwhelming. She feels everything and nothing all at the same time. She ends up watching TV in the living room. There's nothing really good on though, so she decides to head upstairs.

But on her way to her room, Quinn hears the phone in her father's study ring. She hesitates before entering. She'd hardly ever been in here. The phone keeps ringing so she goes over and answers it. "Hello?"

"Hello, I'm looking for Russell?" the voice sounds uncertain, seemingly confused. Quinn can understand why as no one has ever answered this phone other than her father. She doesn't recognize the voice on the other line, but she can only assume that it's either one of her father's friends or his co-workers. She doesn't know how to break the bad news.

"I'm sorry," her voice falters. "But my father… he's… he's no longer with us."

"What? What do you- What happened?"

"He was murdered."

"Oh, I'm- I'm very sorry for your loss. Russell was a… he was a good man. I've worked with him for years. He's a true friend." There's a pause. "You're Quinn, right? His youngest daughter?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well Quinn, if there's anything I can do to help you through this just let me know."

"There is one thing."

**4 Years Later**

She's running when she hears the sound of footsteps behind her; a ten, maybe fifteen feet difference. A smirk makes its way onto her lips. This is too easy. She leaps across a gap, landing gracefully on the rooftop. She turns around swiftly, unsheathing her blade with a flourish. "You'll have to do better than that, blondie," she taunts.

Her opponent just stares at her, gaze never faltering. Rachel's grin widens. They unsheathe their blade as well. This will be oh so fun. They circle each other, their weapons extended out in front of them. Rachel takes a step forward, her blade clanging against her opponent's. She fakes an attack, but her opponent doesn't flinch.

Step after step they take, weighing each other out. The smile on Rachel's face seems out of place, but she loves this part; the build-up before the fight. There's almost nothing more thrilling. She pulls her weapon back, effectively leaving herself wide open for an attack. One comes and she quickly parries before ducking under her opponent's arm and getting behind them.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?"

"No, but it couldn't hurt."

"You assume too much."

"And you talk too much." Rachel places a hand over her heart, feigning anguish. Her opponent tentatively approaches her. She quickly goes on the offensive and slashes for the throat. Her blow is blocked, and backtracks. She dodges to the right when her opponent goes for a counterattack. She flips backwards to gain some breathing room.

She holds her weapon out in front of her, circling her opponent once more. Goading her opponent is something she enjoys. It makes them angry and unfocused. She hates to admit it, but more than once she's won a fight with her words and not her blade. But her opponent today isn't so quick tempered.

It irks her a bit, but more than anything it's refreshing. She'll just have to this the old fashioned way. She closes the distance between them while discreetly reaching for her shorter blade. When she lunges, her first attack is blocked just as expected. Her second attack has a clear opening, but her opponent leaps backwards and avoids the blade to the midsection.

"Not that easy."

"Apparently not." She glances down at her short blade, and foolishly her opponent follows her gaze. She immediately tosses the weapon at full speed. It's easily dodged, but she's given the perfect opportunity to charge in. Forgoing her weapon, she sweeps her opponent off their feet while simultaneously disarming them.

But her opponent doesn't say on the ground for long, quickly backfilling up and away. "You're fast," Rachel quips. Her opponent smirks. Rachel gives both her and her opponent's weapon a flourish "But I'm faster." She tosses her opponent their blade and then leaps for a quick strike. The blades clang with each blow. Left. Right. High. Low. Attack after attack is blocked. Neither seem to go weary, but as much fun as this has been Rachel wants to end this. Now.

She retreats, panting heavily as she distances herself from her opponent. And then she sees it; the tell-tale sign of over confidence. When the attack comes, she's easily able parry it. Her opponent's blade flies across the rooftop. She lifts her blade up to her opponent's throat. She's won. Her opponent laughs. "Nice one Rachel."

"Thank you." Rachel drops her blade. "And you did quite well yourself Samuel, but as always the best swordsman," she pauses, " or perhaps I should say best 'swordswoman' has won again."

"I'll get you next time, you can bet on that," Sam retorts, going over to retrieve his sword.

"You say that every time," Rachel reminds him. "Oh, and speaking of bets-"

"Don't."

_Elsewhere…_

A call comes in and Quinn excuses herself from her friends. "Sorry, I have to take this." Neither Santana nor seem to mind, but that's expected since they enjoy their alone time. Quinn walks a small distance away before answering her phone. "Hello?"

"I think we've found her."

"What?" Quinn can scarcely believe what she's hearing.

"The girl, the one you wanted me to keep an eye out for, I think we've found her."

* * *

AN: I really have an issue with action sequences. I think I should take classes on how to write them or something, but I'm not sure it that'll really help. Maybe I should just learn how to actually use a sword. Now that would be fun.


End file.
